


No Pain Without Pleasure

by Pandir



Category: Monkey Island
Genre: Changes for the ending of the 5th game, Drunken sex, F/M, M/M, Torture, Zombies, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandir/pseuds/Pandir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guybrush somehow ended up having a drunken one night stand with newly reformed LeChuck.<br/>It really doesn't need a torture marathon to make him regret that deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pain Without Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrokoRobin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrokoRobin/gifts).



> For anyone who hasn't played Tales of Monkey Island: The story switches between flashbacks with HumanLeChuck and Guybrush, and Demon God LeChuck torturing Zombie!Guybrush in the end of the game.
> 
> I took some liberties here.

I.  
 _To be honest, he’d had a hunch that drinking grog with LeChuck was a bad idea, even though he was apparently a pretty decent guy now. But LeChuck kept buying another round, which was really_ extraordinarily _decent of him, and who ever heard of a pirate who could resist free grog?_  
 _Still, Guybrush probably should’ve considered that his new friend was thrice his size (in width, not height, of course) and drinking the same amount of grog - even though he was very accustomed to drinking lots of grog on a very frequent basis, that is, actually only if he was served any - wasn’t the smartest thing to do._  
 _And he did end up regretting it a whole lot in the morning, and not only because of the headache. But honestly, how could he ever have thought it’d be that much of a bad idea..._

II.  
Guybrush gasped for air, but before he could fill his lungs, he was pulled down again. He tried to fight it at first and struggled in vain, until he’d realized that scraping the side of the ship hurt less when he was not flailing about. Also, his strength was starting to fade, so he had not much choice but to let himself be be pulled along by the rope on his leg, down under the ship and back up again. Keelhauling was a punishment feared by all sailors and for good reasons, but being keelhauled several times in a row was considerably worse, even for a temporarily undead person. His whole skin was covered with cuts and scratches, yet he was only half-aware of the stinging and aching by now, as his consciousness started to flicker in and out.  
Even though he could fortunately hold his breath for quite a while – ten minutes, to be precise, which was quite impressive – LeChuck was merciless and barely gave him time and opportunity to catch his breath.  
As he passed the bottom of the ship, he felt like he couldn’t take it any second longer, that his lungs were going to burst. He briefly wondered if a zombie even needed to breathe, necessarily, being dead and all, before he gave in and inhaled a whole bunch of sea water.  
That was a horrible mistake - it felt awful to have lungs full of water, which proceeded to seep through his decaying body and burnt in some unexpected places - he felt panic rise in him at the claustrophobic feeling, and he was drowning now, he was sure-  
His head broke through the surface and he coughed and gasped and coughed and spluttered, trying to catch his breath.  
LeChuck was laughing above him, but as he pulled him on deck again to tease him, Guybrush had a hard time standing straight.  
“Ready for another round?”, LeChuck asked with a wide and, as far as Guybrush was concerned, pretty demonic grin.  
“I’d rather… do something else now…”, Guybrush admitted, his voice as hoarse as his throat was sore. “Not really feeling up to it...” He swayed a little and finally keeled over.  
Yet LeChuck knew how to fix his constitution by simply holding him up by his feet for a while to let the water run out of his mouth again. As Guybrush slowly got up from the crushed pile of barrels into which LeChuck had thrown him when he was done, he could stand again, even though his throat was still horribly sore.

III.  
 _It was decidedly weird. First and foremost, there was the impressive beard tickling him, and that sure was different from kissing Elaine. This thought was accompanied by a pang of guilt, yet he was quickly distracted by large, strong hands on his waist, pushing him up against-- he could barely remember whether it was a door or a wall or if it actually had been vertical. He wasn’t even sure where they’d slept that night - it had to be a room at the bar or something, but things were a bit of a blur._ _His back hit the hard surface and LeChuck, with his broad shoulders and honestly quite enormous beard was close to smothering him, in a good way. There was grunting and moaning, and Guybrush assumed that most of those noises were coming out of his mouth and throat, but he didn't mind much. He also didn't mind that the kisses grew sloppier and more heated as Guybrush tugged the curls of the beard a little._ _Still, that wasn't the weirdest part about it. There was actually nothing weird about appreciating nice curly beards, because boy, did they feel funny on his bare chest skin! The weird part wasn't even that the person making out with him was LeChuck, his former mortal enemy, even if that in itself was close to alarming, but that, well- LeChuck was all of sudden not a voodoo monster, but an admittedly handsome and oddly charming fellow. Also, a very good kisser, Guybrush reluctantly had to admit._ _Suddenly, it wasn't so hard anymore to believe that LeChuck had broken some hearts back in his living days. But as confusing as this was, Guybrush had the nagging feeling there was a lot more he should be thinking about in a situation like this, yet his head was spinning and his thoughts were clouded, and so he didn't do much but laugh a bit wobbly as they fell onto the bed._

IV.  
He felt hot, very hot. There was sweat running down his brow, or rather some body fluids, probably oozing from the various blisters covering his greenish skin. Trapped in the claustrophic metal prison, the stench was almost unbearable. He'd have pitied LeChuck back in his burning beard days, yet apparently demon pirates didn't suffer from a sense of smell as LeChuck seemed to enjoy himself, by the sounds of it.  
"What do ye say, ay?", asked LeChuck, apparently eager to hear some feedback. It was probably hard to come up with good torture methods such as slowly boiling your arch enemy over a fire, because LeChuck sure seemed to take a lot of pride in it.  
"You know, ironically, I might've come up with a whole bunch of really witty and interesting things to say about this… torture… thing", Guybrush had trouble collecting his words by now, "if my brain wasn’t… uh, I’m pretty sure it’s melting away." Though he wasn't even sure if he'd have known how to properly address this cooking device of hell on one of his better days. This was LeChuck's area of expertise, not his.  
Guybrush only had the first hand-experience, even though he could have done without that. He wasn't even exaggerating when he said he felt like melting. His skin was coming of where it touched the metal and there was a strong smell of burnt flesh, yet the heat in his insides was even worse. It was as if his blood was literally about to boil.  
Guybrush was ready to plead for mercy, when the heated air inside his intestines caused them to burst and all he had were broken screams as he fainted momentarily only to burn all of his belly and face on the heated metal.  
When the screams stopped again, LeChuck decided it was time to get him out if he wanted to keep playing.

V.  
 _A strong hand on his neck forced him down on the rugged blanket and Guybrush moaned at the rough treatment. His head was swimming, not only because he’d by now reached a state of drunken pleasure and oblivion, but also because LeChuck’s vice grip was effectively cutting off his blood supply._  
 _Either way, he was hardly to blame for not being able to think straight anymore, with LeChuck fucking him hard into the mattress. As both pain and pleasure drove him towards climax, his mind was drifting off, and despite the curls of the beard tickling his back, he moaned “Elaine” until he came and collapsed._  
 _LeChuck probably hadn’t minded too much, because Guybrush could swear he vaguely remembered his thrusts coming faster and harder. In hindsight, Guybrush, however, did mind a lot more._  
 _His only consolation was that it’d been an accident, really, but he wasn’t quite convinced that this was what Elaine would think of it. To be honest, he didn’t know what he himself was supposed to think of it. But think about it, he did, and the worst part about it were the dreams - not because they were bad dreams, but because most of them weren't bad dreams at all._

VI.  
"Ah, what a sight!"  
Guybrush, who was lying on the ground, hands and legs tied up, supposed that was aimed at him, now trembling with pain at the dozens of sharp bone shards piercing his flesh and skin. LeChuck had taken a break from throwing cannonballs at his immobilized body, granting him a moment to recover - or more likely, to fully appreciate his misery. After all, there were already several dents in Guybrush's undead body and a lot of crushed and splintered bones. He tried to take a few calming deep breaths, but that caused the splinters of his rips to rupture his lung and he groaned in agony instead.  
"Say, do ya still remember that little pillow-fight we had?", LeChuck asked, all of sudden.  
That partly took Guybrush's mind of the pain.  
How could he not remember this weird, now oddly removed night. It had haunted him even before LeChuck's betrayal, in various ways. Now, with LeChuck's motivations revealed, the whole thing seemed even more fishy to him, though. Not that it had been that much of a horrible experience, Guybrush couldn't really lie to himself about that, but he was a married man and it had never been his intent to betray Elaine. How come he couldn't remember himself at least trying to resist?  
There had to be some voodoo magicks involved, at least that was what he very much hoped. He didn't exactly want to ask LeChuck on this, though.  
"What the hell did you even do that for?", he managed to press out instead, even though it was more of a wheezing, thanks to his ruined lungs.

"Guybrush, Guybrush", LeChuck said with exaggerated compassion. "You trusted me so much. Can ye blame me for wanting to have a little fun?"  
He was terrible at keeping the act up, though, so he didn't sound sorry at all when he added: "I just wanted to give you something to remember me by."

"Yeah, fun…", Guybrush echoed in a rather weak attempt at irony, as his mind was trying to keep up. He had wondered how he'd been able to remember the details of that incident astonishingly well, considering the state he was in, but if LeChuck had intended on this to haunt him, it made some twisted sort of sense. It had to be some voodoo spell, he was now almost completely sure. Apropos details... "You did get a bit carried away, didn’t you?"

LeChuck waved his hand at that remark, simply brushing it off. "Ah, well, I haven’t been human for a while, and I do admit I had forgotten about some of the perks of being alive."

"Oh." Guybrush was not entirely sure what to make of this, even though that did explain a lot. Right now, he maybe didn't even want to know just how much of that incident had been something like honest desire. Actually, he didn't want to think about it at all, preferably, and not right now, he'd already had a hard time surpressing parts of that memory during their torture marathon, which had been disturbing enough.

LeChuck, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same kind of problem. "But now that I am my beautiful undead self again", he said with a wide gesture, to show off his whole demonic hull. "...I have a very different kind of desire. And do you know what satisfies me most, now that I'll have Elaine by my side?"

"Iiiii suppose it won’t be taking me out for a nice zombie dinner?", Guybrush prompted, though he wasn't really hopeful.

LeChuck didn't let that take the wind out of his sails. "Nay, what I want is to give you an eternity of agony and pain, Threepwood!" And he bent down to he pick another cannonball.

"Ah, yes, that", Guybrush managed to get out wearily before the heavy ball of iron crushed his ribcage for good.

VII.  
 _Elaine_ , he thought as he faded out of consciousness, _if you’re waiting for the right moment to rescue me, now would be a great time._

Unlike her husband but fortunate for him, Elaine Marley always knew precisely when it was the right time for a well-planned swiftly conducted rescuing.


End file.
